Eirathis the Mask: Laughs in the dark Revamped

Spuuk Drive

Quest had never believed in ghosts. That was, until he moved into the old house on Spuuk Drive. It looked like something straight out of a nightmare: gnarled trees casting skeletal shadows, ivy that clung to the crumbling stone walls like twisted fingers, and windows that seemed to watch his every move, rattling with every breeze. The place reeked of abandonment, the kind of house where every creak made you feel like something was watching, waiting.
But Quest wasn’t the type to get spooked easily. Sure, the house had a “haunted” reputation, but he chalked that up to small-town folklore. He wasn’t fazed by a few creaks and groans. Not at first.
That changed the first night.
He had just settled into bed, trying to adjust to the unfamiliar, unsettling sounds of the house. The floorboards creaked like footsteps in the hallway, the wind whispered through the cracks in the walls, and every once in a while, the old pipes clanged like they were being struck by invisible hands. It was all unnerving, sure, but nothing Quest couldn’t explain away.
Until he heard it. A sound that didn’t fit.
It started as a low, raspy chuckle, barely audible, like someone—or something—was trying not to be heard. Quest stiffened in his bed, his eyes darting to the open bedroom door. The hallway beyond was pitch-black, but the chuckle came again, unmistakable this time. It was closer.
His mind raced. Old house… pipes… probably an animal in the walls… right?
But the laugh kept coming, growing louder, until it became an unsettling cackle that echoed down the hallway, filling the house with a cold, unnatural presence.
Then, the clock struck midnight.
And that’s when he saw it.
A figure appeared in the doorway, its form barely distinguishable from the shadows. Its face was pale, unnaturally so, as though all the color had been drained from it long ago. But the worst part? The grin. It was stretched far too wide, lips pulled back to reveal a row of jagged, decaying teeth. The grin looked like it had been carved onto its face, locked in a hideous expression of forced joy.
Quest’s heart pounded in his chest. He could barely breathe. The figure didn’t move. It just stood there, watching him, grinning.
“Okay… nope,” Quest whispered to himself, pulling the covers up to his chin like he just put on camo armor.
But the figure didn’t leave. Every night, at the stroke of midnight, the ghostly figure appeared in the same spot. Its laughter grew louder, more twisted, echoing through the darkened halls like the punchline to some terrible, cosmic joke. The grin never left its face, and no matter how much Quest tried to ignore it, he could feel its eyes on him. Watching. Waiting.
By day six, Quest was at the edge of madness. He hadn’t slept in days, haunted by that laugh, by that smile that seemed to grow wider with each passing night. He tried reasoning with himself. This can’t be real. I’m going crazy.
But when night fell, the figure returned. Its laugh followed him everywhere in the house, reverberating off the walls like some sort of spectral comedy club routine. The tension was unbearable.
On the seventh night, Quest had enough. Broom in hand, he marched down the hallway toward the figure, tired of running, tired of being the victim in some horror movie he didn’t sign up for.
“Alright, you freak!” he shouted, his voice cracking with a mix of fear and frustration. “Why are you grinning at me every night like a rejected Joker impersonator?! What do you want?!”
The ghost appeared again, right on cue, standing in the doorway with that same terrible grin. But this time, it didn’t laugh. Instead, it seemed… hesitant? Slowly, the grin softened, and then, almost shyly, it spoke.
“I’m… sorry,” it said in a sheepish voice, its grin still stretching unnaturally across its face. “I just got my braces off… isn’t my smile great?”
Quest blinked, lowering the broom. “Wait… what?”
The ghost floated closer, its smile now less menacing and more… bashful. “I’ve been waiting for someone to see it! I went through years of ghostly orthodontics, you know. You have no idea how hard it is to get a spectral appointment.”
Quest stood there, mouth agape, trying to process the absurdity of the situation. “So… you’ve been haunting me… showing up at midnight… for a week… because you wanted me to see your braces?!”
The ghost nodded eagerly, its translucent face lighting up. “Yup! Look at these pearly whites! Straight, right?”
Quest blinked, his terror slowly being replaced by disbelief. “Uh… yeah. Creepy straight. Like, really straight.”
“Thanks!” the ghost beamed. “You wouldn’t believe how hard it is to floss when you’re transparent.”
Quest groaned, rubbing his temples. “So… no cursed spirits? No haunted revenge? Just… dental work?”
The ghost shrugged. “What can I say? I’ve been dead for a while, but I still want a great smile.”
Quest sighed, lowering the broom completely. “Okay. You’ve got a great smile. Now can you stop haunting me?”
The ghost’s grin widened proudly. “I knew it was worth the haunting! I’ve been floating around waiting for someone to notice. Do you think I should try whitening strips?”
Quest stared at the ghost for a long moment, utterly defeated by the absurdity of it all. “Uh… sure. Whatever makes you feel… ‘alive,’ I guess.”
The ghost nodded enthusiastically, flashing one last grin before slowly floating back down the hallway, its laughter now soft and almost… pleasant?
As Quest watched the ghost disappear into the shadows, he muttered to himself, “This is exactly why I need to check the fine print before moving into haunted houses.”
The End